Author: oliviaventura

I was born many years ago in...
No, seriously, all you need to know about me is that I love love LOVE reading, and it's even more fun to write my own stories (I get to choose the ending that way).
I've worked in plenty of different jobs, many in retail, which is the best way to meet some really colorful people, and also in recruitment, telecommunications, and food safety.
I live in Melbourne, Australia, and I'm still on the lookout for Mr. Right, so if you know him, send him my way.

Newly retired championship footballer Simon Wood is taking on his next challenge. His plan for a charity to provide funding for underprivileged children to pursue football as a career has passed its first hurdle: he has backers and an executive consultant. Now it’s time to get the ball rolling.

Lucien Morel, heir to the multibillion-euro Morel Corporation, is shocked—and thrilled—to learn his father has volunteered him as consultant to a fledgling football charity. Better yet, the brains behind it all is heartthrob Simon Wood, his teenage idol and crush.

Although Simon and Lucien get off on the wrong foot, it’s not long before they’re getting along like a house on fire—sparks included. But with the charity under public scrutiny, can their romance thrive?

Excerpt:

NOT FIDGETING was hard.

That’s stupid, he told himself. He was Simon Wood, for fuck’s sake, a championship professional athlete. He’d been in more high-pressure situations than most people would care to even imagine—on the pitch, in the locker room, in the media spotlight. He was used to being nervous, and not since he was nineteen had he felt the urge to fidget.

This was more important than anything else he’d done, however, although he’d never say so to the millions of football fans around the world, many of whom either idolized or loathed him. But it was. As much as he’d always loved playing football, his career as an athlete was never going to be forever, and while it brought entertainment and pleasure to many, ultimately that had been fleeting. This, though… this could last a long time and benefit a lot of young people.

So Si made a concerted effort not to tap his fingers on the chair arms as he sat in the executive reception of the Morel Corporation in Paris. It was a fantastic coup to have even gotten this appointment with Édouard Morel—most applications for charitable funds went through the Morel Foundation’s director—but once Si had retired and made the decision that this was what he wanted to do next, he’d called in just about every favor he’d ever been owed and leaned on a few contacts he’d made in his playing years just to get this meeting. The Morel Corporation had been his top pick when he’d been compiling a list of possible backers because Édouard Morel was known for following through on promises to charities and for generosity. He needed the older man’s full backing, including his contacts and influence, not just to be one of many charities on the Foundation’s list.

“Monsieur Wood?” Si looked up as the extremely elegant executive receptionist came toward him, her professional smile just that tiny bit more than it should be. He was used to that, of course, from both women and men, and any other time he may have considered signaling that he was open to her offer, but not today. Not here. He would do nothing to bollocks up this meeting.

He kept his smile as neutral as possible as he stood. “Yes?”

“If you come this way, Monsieur Morel will see you now.” Her manner slipped back to purely professional. His message had obviously been received.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to be obvious about it, Si followed her down a hallway. At the end was a set of double doors, and with each step closer, his heart pounded a tiny bit louder in his ears. Relax, Si. You can do this.

They reached the doors, and the woman—she’d told him her name earlier, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember it—knocked once before opening one and poking her head in. A moment later she opened both doors wide and stepped back, motioning for him to enter.

“Thank you,” he said, his throat suddenly dry, and walked past her. He heard the doors close behind him, but his focus was on the man rising from a fancy chair behind the big desk across the room. “Monsieur Morel, I’m so pleased to meet you,” Si said as he crossed the space between them, hand outstretched. “I’m Simon Wood.” He knew the man spoke English, which was a great relief since his French was not good and mainly limited to the sort of slurs that could be used against opponents during a football match.

“I recognize you,” Édouard Morel replied, smiling broadly. “I am not so great a sports fan as my son, but even I could not fail to know who you are.” He shook Si’s hand and gestured for him to sit, while Si wondered if the comment about not being a great sports fan meant he was screwed.

Only one way to find out.

“I must confess, I am very curious about this new venture you wanted to speak about. I am not in the habit of funding new businesses, but several people insisted I must see you.”

Oh, bloody hell. It sounded like Morel was setting up for a refusal already, and Si had only introduced himself!

“It’s not exactly a new business,” Si said, forcing the words through his suddenly too-tight throat. Morel raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical… and just like that, Si was in his zone. The nerves fell away, the worry disappeared, and he was hyperfocused, completely intent on the end goal.

He knew he was speaking, knew he’d taken out the business plan and was making his presentation, but he wasn’t sure exactly what he said. He felt confident, though, sure of every word and action, could judge Morel’s reactions and change tack as required.

And those reactions weren’t always positive. “I do not spend charitable funds on games,” had very nearly pulled Si out of his focused state.

Finally he sat back in his chair, awareness widening again as Morel flipped once more through the business plan for the program. He’d made his pitch. Now to see if it had worked.

Morel looked up, and Si’s gut clenched. “You have secured 25 percent of the funding required for startup and the first year?”

Si nodded. “Yes. There are various grant organizations across Europe that have indicated they would be happy to support the program. I can’t officially apply for them until we’re up and running, of course, but I’ve been assured the funds will be allocated when I do. That will account for 5 percent. The other twenty is coming from me.”

Morel seemed impressed by that. “Really? Twenty percent?”

“I was very good at my job, monsieur, and not as foolish with money as some might assume footballers are. I strongly believe that this program can do a lot of good, and I’d be an idiot not to put my money where my mouth is before looking for funding.” Was that too aggressive? Maybe he should have just shut up.

“Very well.” Morel put the business plan down and sat back in his superfancy chair. “I will not lie—I have never been inclined to support sports charities. I believe money is better used on basic necessities and education.” Si’s stomach sank. “However, you have made a very good point that sometimes young people have different priorities and that life cannot just be about necessities. Pleasure is important too. So here is what I propose. You have 25 percent of funding already secured. The Morel Corporation—not the Foundation—will fund an additional 60 percent of what you need for the first five years of the program, with an option to review then.”

Si wanted to leap up and scream in victory. Sixty percent was more—heaps more—than what he’d hoped for from Morel, and a five-year commitment? Outstanding! Instead, he smiled broadly. “That’s very generous of you, sir. Thank you. You won’t regret this.”

Morel held up a hand. “I am not finished. You have an MBA and an excellent understanding of football and the needs of young players, but I believe no actual experience with running a business or charitable endeavor?”

Where’s he going with this? “That’s correct, sir, and why the plan”—he nodded to the bound document on the desk—“allows for the hire of an experienced business manager.”

“But surely those funds can be put to better use? Let me instead propose this. My son, Lucien, will consult on the setup of the program, train you to run it, and oversee operations for the first five years. His time and expertise will be an additional part of the Morel Corporation’s contribution.”

There was a roaring sound in Si’s ears. Morel was giving him an executive consultant? Si couldn’t claim to be current on who all the movers and shakers of the business world were, but Lucien Morel appeared in the business news almost as often as his father. Having his knowledge and expertise attached to the program would be…. Si couldn’t even think of a word to describe how good.

Belatedly, he realized Morel was still speaking.

“… and so I will personally provide the final 15 percent of funding that you require.”

Si blinked. “I…. Sorry, could you repeat that?” He knew it was less than professional, but he needed to hear the words again.

Morel smiled. “I said, I am aware that it may prove difficult to obtain funding from other organizations with a Morel representative overseeing operations, so I will personally provide the additional funds. No insult to you, but with the size of the contribution the Morel Corporation is making, I would feel more comfortable to have Lucien involved, and if that requires an additional contribution from me….” He shrugged, a very Gallic gesture, and Si nodded. Christ, was it Christmas? His birthday? Every good day he’d ever experienced rolled into one? There could be no other explanation for the level of good fortune he was in receipt of today.

He stood when Morel did. “I will have Lucien’s assistant contact you to arrange an appointment, but here is his information. His name is Paul.” Si took the offered business card, feeling rather numb, shook the man’s hand, and left the office. He walked down the hall, nodded to the receptionist, rode the lift down thirty floors, and left the building. It wasn’t until he was out on the busy Paris street, faced with several hours before he needed to be at the airport for his flight home, that it hit him.

He’d done it.

Twenty years of wondering, of wishing, of thinking maybe one day. The scrupulous efforts to put money aside during his early playing days, when teammates his age were blowing thousands—sometimes millions—on posh houses and cars, holidays abroad, and designer gear. The years of scraping out time to study for his degrees in addition to his grueling training, match, and publicity schedules.

It was all paying off. He’d had the business plan, and now he had the funding too.

And an executive consultant of the like he could never have dreamed of hiring.

Si laughed out loud as he walked down the street, everything seeming bolder, brighter, happier.

Samantha Hasting is a woman sick of living in a rut. Her whole life revolves around her work and her best friends. Wanting to meet new people—including a man who makes her heart beat faster—she signs up for online dating.As Sam embarks on her dating adventures, her best friend—and friend with benefits—Levi is her constant, a shoulder to cry on and buddy to laugh with. It’s only after she meets and starts dating Jack that she realizes maybe Levi means more to her than she’d thought. Maybe the man who makes her heart beat faster was right there all along.

Veronica, a self confessed girly-girl, often finds herself labelled a bimbo—and just doesn’t care. An ex-economist turned handyperson, Vee is not afraid to be female, period. So what if it happens to be in a male-dominated industry?

When Vee threatens a client with a hammer to ward off his wandering hands, she finds herself at the local police station facing charges of assault. There she meets Detective Cole Samuels, and the sparks thrown off by their mutual animosity are combustive. They quickly become involved in a hot and heavy relationship, leaping one hurdle after another. Things finally seem to be working out when Vee’s workplace is vandalized, a message left… and suddenly, that crank call and the near-miss with the crazy driver don’t seem to be harmless incidents anymore. Vee’s stalker rapidly escalates in violence, leaving Cole determined to find him before Vee gets hurt….

Social misfit Jessamy James pays the bills with a cleaning job so she can do what she really loves—tell stories to children. When she meets NFL superstar Nathan Powell while scrubbing unknown substances from his kitchen floor, Jess is as wary as she is confused. Never has she met a man with so much trust in the world, and he’s never met anyone he couldn’t charm. Outwardly, they’re complete opposites, but Nathan is intrigued by Jess’s reclusive attitude, and she’s drawn to his open personality. The attraction between them is inevitable.

When Nathan is dragged into a drug scandal, Jess is caught up in the media storm and finds her own vocation slipping through her fingers. As they struggle to clear his name and rescue both their careers, Jess and Nathan discover that sometimes all you can do is wish upon a shooting star.

This sexy cowboy is out of his element. He doesn’t want commitment, but Jodie Ellison is a force of nature who can’t be ignored.

Jodie Ellison loves wild parties, chaotic fun, and spontaneity in her hometown of Ocean City, Maryland. With her writing career and waitressing job not quite paying the bills, Jodie desperately needs a new roommate and finds herself in a nightmarish situation when her roomie turns out to be a disastrous choice.

The wild and unruly Levi Creed is a little bit rebel and a whole lot of sexy. When he moves in next door to Jodie, things get a bit tumultuous thanks to a squawking parrot and a dangerous fire pit. It seems like Levi’s adorable Texan drawl and perfect body can’t possibly win over Jodie… or can they?

An undeniable chemistry simmers between the unlikely pair. The beach babe and the sexy cowboy soon find themselves asking: Can they tame their wild hearts and commit to the blossoming romance between them?

Plus, more importantly, I don’t want this flaunty cowboy to think I’m interested or something. I mean, what kind of man walks around Ocean City with an open plaid shirt? What kind of man puts a fire ring in his front yard to cook dinner?

I’ve been down the hot-bod-guy road before, and it didn’t turn out great. He seems nice enough, it’s true. But he’s got that swagger about him, and I’ve seen that before. Something tells me Levi Creed isn’t an innocent Texan boy. Something in his eyes, in his posture, in his everything screams rebel.

True, the last time I fell for a six-pack abs guy was at beach yoga, and the guy wasn’t quite wearing a cowboy hat. But still. I know his type. A hell of a lot of fun… but a hell of a lot of trouble too.

The fire looks nice and inviting, but I’ve been burned before. I have my writing career to focus on. I don’t need to end up in the burning embers again.

“Never mind,” I say, and Levi stays put for a moment before smiling, tipping his hat at me like I’m some southern belle, then heading back into his apartment. He emerges ten minutes later with what looks to be some steaks. He sets up some kind of rack over the fire, and the smell is heavenly. I bury my nose in my computer, though, determined to get some work done.

When he’s done cooking, he ambles back in his apartment, and I figure I won’t see him again.

Fifteen minutes later, though, he comes out with a plate. “I don’t want to distract you, but I had an extra and thought you might be hungry.”

“Smells good. Thanks,” I say, realizing I am actually quite hungry.

“One word of warning. More than one lady has fallen head over heels for me because of my amazing steak cooking skills. Eat at your own risk.”

My mouth opens to spew some witty response, but I’ve got nothing. He winks at me, hands the plate to me, and once I take it, he spins on his boot and walks away, no further questions or comments.

I stare down at the plate, a fork and knife included. There’s a heavenly smelling steak with a salad. Sebastian climbs up on my lap, pawing at the plate, almost choking himself on the harness in the process.

The man might have odd fashion choices, a southern drawl, and a bit of overconfidence, but ten minutes later when the steak’s been devoured, I decide he can definitely cook a damn steak—and maybe Levi Creed as a neighbor has its benefits.

A high school English teacher, an author, and a fan of anything pink and/or glittery, Lindsay’s the English teacher cliché; she love cats, reading, Shakespeare, and Poe.

She currently lives in her hometown with her husband, Chad (her junior high sweetheart); their cats, Arya, Amelia, Alice, and Bob; and their Mastiff, Henry.

Lindsay’s goal with her writing is to show the power of love and the beauty of life while also instilling a true sense of realism in her work. Some reviewers have noted that her books are not the “typical romance.” With her novels coming from a place of honesty, Lindsay examines the difficult questions, looks at the tough emotions, and paints the pictures that are sometimes difficult to look at. She wants her fiction to resonate with readers as realistic, poetic, and powerful. Lindsay wants women readers to be able to say, “I see myself in that novel.” She wants to speak to the modern woman’s experience while also bringing a twist of something new and exciting. Her aim is for readers to say, “That could happen,” or “I feel like the characters are real.” That’s how she knows she’s done her job.

Lindsay’s hope is that by becoming a published author, she can inspire some of her students and other aspiring writers to pursue their own passions. She wants them to see that any dream can be attained and publishing a novel isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Katrina Vega is set on one thing: finishing college. She’s determined not to let anything or anyone distract her, especially not hot brooding bikers. On her mission to stay focused, she doesn’t expect to be pulled into the fold of a motorcycle club, let alone into the arms of Alec “Mute” Stillwater.

Unable to keep her guard up, Katrina soon discovers that beneath the hard and rough exterior of a family she’s grown to care for, there’s also loyalty and passion she’s envious of. But falling for the club’s enforcer will not only threaten her plans but quite possibly her life.

Mute observed the bar as he always did, drinking coffee, and looking for problems. He already could feel the new help was going to be one. All night he had watched her, slipping through the crowd, deftly avoiding eye contact, staying out of people’s way. She seemed to want to melt into the background, and in some ways that made her the perfect employee. One who would do her job and get things done with no muss or fuss. She didn’t dress to impress, wearing jeans and plain T-shirt, simple sneakers, hair up in one of those stretchy things. It was hard to tell if she wore makeup or not.

When he had first walked into the bar, he’d been angry. Brick had called for a church meeting at the Lair earlier, and all the ranking members and officers had to be present. The older man had shown his frustration, banging the gavel repeatedly to maintain order at the formal meeting. There was bad business going on around town, rumors of drug running, even though the club had gotten out of that shit years ago. Brick and Betsey had worked hard to get the club out of the one-percenter limelight and into legit businesses without feeling the loss of income, but people had long memories when it came to the bad stuff. He’d spent the afternoon searching corners with a club prospect, hanging around, looking for leads. Nothing. It was hard enough to make himself understood, let alone get anyone to communicate with him, and the prospect was either too scared or too stupid to try.

When he’d arrived at the bar tonight, he’d slumped heavily into his spot at the bar and tapped at the new girl for his coffee. She looked at him like she was ready to run out the door. Real pretty eyes, but fuck this shit! His patience was at an end. He stood up and thumped the bar again, knowing his frustration was showing and he was taking it out on an innocent girl. Betsey was there in an instant, talking fast and light, pouring his coffee. The girl settled and went back to work, steadily if uneasily.

Too soft, thought Mute. Pretty girl but too soft for the life. Probably not stick it out. Leave in a week.

ML Nystrom had stories in her head since she was a child. All sorts of stories of fantasy, romance, mystery and anything else that captured her interest. A voracious reader, she’s spent many hours devouring books; therefore, she found it only fitting she should write a few herself!ML has spent most of her life as a performing musician and band instrument repair technician, but that doesn’t mean she’s pigeon-holed into one mold. She’s been a university professor, belly dancer, craftsperson, soap maker, singer, rock band artist, jewelry maker, lifeguard, swim coach, and whatever else she felt like exploring. As one of her students said to her once, “Life’s too short to ignore the opportunities.” She has no intention of ever stopping… so welcome to her story world. She hopes you enjoy it!

Gray Baird’s to-do list for the year includes starting a restaurant, claiming his submissive, and keeping his nosy friends out of his business. He has his work seriously cut out for him.Scottie Monk prides himself on bullying his way through problems—and sometimes even people. His life is spiralling out of his control, but he refuses to break. The last thing he expects is to find peace in the confines of submission.

One man will try to tame a lion.One man will try to heal.

And both men will have to join forces to deal with a toxic family and invasive paparazzi.

The Lion Tamer is book six in Dahlia Donovan’s international bestselling gay romance series, The Sin Bin. Each one features hot rugby players and the men who steal their hearts.

It is recommended that readers have read at least The Royal Marine and The Unexpected Santa prior to reading The Lion Tamer.

Wanting to impress his new backers, Gray got to work preparing a truly impressive spread with boeuf bourguignon toast, prime rib sliders, and whisky-glazed wings for starters, and a brown butter roast chicken with smashed potatoes for the entrée. Akash had brought over a selection of cakes; he’d be providing desserts for the restaurant for the foreseeable future. There were also potential future menus on paper to show the owners.

Fuck me.

This felt like more work than boot camp—it isn’t, but it sure as fuck feels like it.

“Oi. Gray? You in here?” Caddock barged into the kitchen. “We’re all seated out there. Scottie’s late—as ever. You ready to feed the ravenous horde?”

“You’ve got to stop reading Francis’s novels. Scottie’s only late because he decided to try to drink us all under the table again. He’s probably still sleeping it off.” BC strode in behind his friend. They both started towards the platters lined across one of the counters, only to freeze in place when Gray scowled at them. “Bugger. You ever consider refereeing? You’ve got the ‘punish the naughty rugby boys’ look down perfectly.”

Punish the naughty boys?

They’ve no fucking clue.

If they only knew….

Deciding not to go for the easy joke, Gray closed the two former rugby players out of his kitchen. He didn’t want them to get an early sampling of the food. His reputation preceded him, and they went without an argument.

When the server borrowed from the nightclub arrived to help him, Gray managed to get all the starters plated up without any trouble. He followed the waiter out into the restaurant to find the five rugby players waiting, seated around one of the larger tables. A slightly bleary-eyed Scottie took one look at him, muttered a few creative curses, smacked a laughing Caddock on the head, and bolted from the dining room.

“Well, he handled that as brilliantly as expected,” Remi, the lone Frenchman amongst the group of friends, remarked caustically. “Should someone retrieve him? I’m not in the mood to cater to the Monk temper today.”

“Bloody Frenchie,” BC muttered. “I am not sodding it.”

“Me either,” Caddock chimed in readily.

Gray exchanged a knowing look with Taine, who was the only serious one amongst the five, perhaps outside of Remi. “I’ll hunt the rabbit.”

“They’re never just marines.” Remi met Gray’s stony gaze without flinching. “I doubt assassin is the right word for a decorated marine sniper and sergeant major.”

Interesting.

It sounded as if Remi had done a bit of research on him. Background check, maybe? It wouldn’t have been all that difficult to find a bit about his service history. The vast majority of his deployments before and after becoming a drill instructor were likely declassified.

With a nod to Remi, Gray made his way out of the restaurant. He blinked in the rare spring sunlight. His eyes quickly adjusted to allow him to spot Scottie, leaning against a nearby wall and muttering to himself.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Gray walked purposefully forward until the toes of his shoes almost touched the edge of Scottie’s trainers. “Did I scare you?”

“Hardly.” Scottie tilted his head to scowl at him. “Fuck off. My head’s still killing me.”

“What do they call you rugby boys? Lions? Is that it? You’re no fucking lion. You’re a kitten who’s barely off his mother’s milk.” Gray easily dodged the clumsy punch thrown his direction. Even without his thirty-plus years of military experience, avoiding the swing of a drunken man required little effort. “C’mon, kitten. Didn’t your mom tell you not to roll around in the dirt?”

“She called me her little fucking bastard and told me to drink bleach.” Scottie jerked his shoulders up in a hard shrug. “Didn’t learn much from the twat or anyone else in my family, come to think of it.”

“So? Want a medal?” Gray used his forearm to pin Scottie to the brick wall behind him. “Want a fucking trophy for surviving? Guess what? They don’t hand them out. I should know. I’d be first in line to receive one. You don’t get a pass from common courtesy because life hasn’t been fair. You’re not the only human being to survive a childhood of abuse and pain. Get the fuck over yourself.”

“I’m not a fucking kitten.” Scottie tried to shove him away, but Gray held him still. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Well, you’re certainly not a lion.” Gray bent forward to drag his nose along the side of Scottie’s neck, biting him just above his collar. “No, not a lion. You also still reek of booze. Forget to shower this morning?”

“Fuck you.”

Gray couldn’t resist a smirk when the evidence of Scottie’s arousal pressed against his leg. “Get back inside for the tasting, kitten. We’ll finish this later.”

Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.

When Deputy Henri Gunther realizes there’s so much more to waitress Jenna Trippleton, his simple small-town life explodes right open. With her safety and freedom at stake, Jenna must decide whether she can put her trust in the one man who’s promised to protect her.

“You have a great day as well. And watch out for those ghosts up at the bed-and-breakfast.” He winked at her.

“What ghosts?” she asked, confused.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? The Bakker place is supposed to be haunted. Stories have been circulating about that for over a hundred years.” Henri smiled at her.

Deputy Hotty kept smiling and handed her his card. “My cell number is on there. You never know when you might want a deputy to come save you from the big bad ghosts. Of course, you can feel free to call me for anything else you might need as well.”

Oh my God, he really is flirting with me, Jenna thought to herself. Outwardly she tried to remain cool as she took his card. “Thank you, Deputy, but I stopped believing in ghosts a long time ago.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“The living people around me turned out to be scarier,” Jenna answered before thinking. Damn her too-honest mouth sometimes, it always had gotten her into trouble.

Henri’s eyes seemed to focus a little more after her response. “I’m sorry. Still, keep my card and give me a call sometime. I’m good at all sorts of things, not just protecting people from ghosts.” With one final smile and wink, he walked out to join his fellow officers.

Anna came up behind her as she still held his card in her hand. “Looks like you have a new admirer. Mind you, he might be the biggest flirt in the town, but I don’t know if I’ve seen Henri Gunther go full out like that for attention since he was in high school, and even then he didn’t have to work hard. Girls practically threw themselves at him then—well, until Stacey landed him.”

“And now? No Stacey or women throwing themselves at him?” Jenna couldn’t help but ask. She was going to remain single—she didn’t need the hassle of a relationship, let alone one with a cop and apparently the town lothario—but she still couldn’t help wanting to know. Something about that man got to her. Maybe it was the sadness behind the flirting baby blues, the hint of depths unknown she could see in his eyes.

“Seems like he may have a little interest being returned? Well, I’ll give you a brief run-through on Henri Gunther. Gorgeous, as anyone with eyes can see, and so can he. Back in high school, he was a big shot football player who dated the head cheerleader. Then in the last game, he broke his leg and ended any hope of a college career. Stacey had been banking on him leaving town and taking her with him. When he decided to stay and try out for the police force, well, she took off with one of his friends from the team who was headed to Iowa State. Broke poor Henri’s heart,” Anna explained.

Sheri Velarde lives in New Mexico with her husband and their two dogs.

Being an avid reader since an early age, Sheri wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. She has been writing all her life, but only recently started to pursue her dream of writing for a living. Sheri specializes in all things paranormal and that go bump in the night. Her heart truly lies in exploring unknown worlds or adding the supernatural to our world. If it goes bump in the night or has magical connotations, Sheri writes about it. She writes everything from sweet romances to horror stories sure to scare you.

In her spare time Sheri is an artist, jewelry designer, independent comic writer/artist and freelance non-fiction writer. Hiking in the mountains, going to live concerts, art openings, museums, watching movies, playing games, and hosting intimate dinner parties.

Arlo Jones is a badass millionaire rock star with the world at his feet. He lives the “sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll” lifestyle to the max, and believes in working hard and playing harder. He’s a man who always gets what he wants, especially when it comes to women. Until he meets London.

She’s a damaged dancer not looking to fall.

All London Llwellyn wants is to rebuild her life following the tragic car accident that robbed her of her fiancé, and ended her career as a professional ballet dancer. She’s working two jobs to scrape together the cash to set up her own studio, and reinvent herself as a photographer. The last thing she wants is to get involved.

Arlo promises to always be there to catch her, but can London trust him enough to let herself fall?

MV ELLIS knows what it’s like to fall head over heels in love with a badass musician. She followed her heart halfway around the world to be with one. She moved from London to Sydney after a steamy holiday romance with a sexy bass player in sultry Brazil.

Twelve years, two children and a dog later, and she’s still smitten. All this with a guy she sat next to on a bus for 36 hours! She has toured internationally as a “WAG,” and her experiences inspire her writing.

Ellis’s love of romance began when she was 11 years old, after a summer spent secretly reading her auntie’s books. She’s been a sucker for an alpha hero and strong heroine ever since.

An avid reader, Ellis always knew she’d write a book of her own one day. She was right about that. Following a career spanning advertising, marketing, and social media, she finally wrote Catching London in 2017.

Ella Raines may not have the best reputation in New York, but she’s determined to have respect. Knowing she will achieve this in high society, Ella answers an advertisement for a mail-order bride in an up-and-coming Western town, Whiskey River, Wyoming.

Colton Hill is a wandering gunslinger seeking new horizons and is tired of being challenged because he’s the fastest gun around. When he meets Ella, he’s amused by her unusual ambition and agrees to tag along to Whiskey River.

Together, they travel Westward in search of happiness, purpose, and destiny. What they find instead is the spark of something they cannot control.

An educator, writer, mother, and free spirit, Theresa Oliver’s love affair with the written word has spanned decades. An Indiana native, Theresa began the foundation of her writing career as a child. Her love of reading, writing, and creative expression guided her to seek a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications, News Editorial sequence, from the University of Tennessee at Martin; and then continued on to earn a Master of Arts in Teaching degree, Early Childhood Education sequence, from Armstrong Atlantic State University.

Her foundational experiences in childhood led her to want to create meaningful, positive experiences with reading and writing for future generations, and inspire the same love of creative expression that has been such a rewarding force behind her career and life.

Theresa has dedicated her life to the world of writing and the creation of novels that span all levels and genres. First and foremost a mother, her greatest loves are her three beautiful boys, to whom she dedicates the success and longevity of her prolific career. Theresa currently resides in Kissimmee, Florida with her beloved husband and children.